


motorhead // trashmouth // superhero

by sacredoe



Category: Aquaman (2018), Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arthur Curry Talks Dirty, Arthur Curry is Sexy as Hell, Arthur Curry/OC, Arthur and Mera will be just fishpals, Atlanna is a badass mother in law, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Friends, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, How Do I Tag, Lemons, OC calls Batman ''Spooky'', OC has a lot of piercings and tattoos, OC is a Southern Belle, OC is a Superhero, OC is friendly with Clark and Lois and Martha, OC is my best girl and I love her and hope y'all do too, Orm will be redeemed, Relationship Upgrade, Requited Unrequited Love, Reunited Friends to Lovers, Romance, Smut, Superhero OC, Swearing, Thomas Curry is a Good Dad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-18 03:48:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18241763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sacredoe/pseuds/sacredoe
Summary: "The moon rules over the ocean, controlling the tides and waves. Funny how the king of the seas is ruled by the sun."Running into her childhood best friend at a local bar, Daisy's life, already topsy-turvy, gets knocked on its side in the most wonderful way possible. She's thrown for a loop when, days later, a "friend from work"'s butler shows up with a request about joining a group and stopping an alien invasion. How can she say no when the world is on the line?





	1. Tony's Bar

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know. Just go with it, yeah? I will, eventually, draw a reference for her superhero outfit and tattoos and post it up somewhere. I apologize for any OOC moments in canon characters and errors in spelling and grammar. I like overusing italics, dashes, and bolding things.
> 
> Have fun!

* * *

 

Arthur had a way of attracting people to him, mostly outcasts. Something about his aura just lured displaced people to him. He was warm despite the chip on his shoulder, they seemed to see something in them that they recognized.

Outsiders just… _flocked_ to him.

So much so that when his peers bullied him or teased him in any way, the tiny white-haired girl three years his junior would slam into the situation and fight his fights. Just — appeared seemingly out of nowhere, zipping in out of left field. An outsider, an outcast, displaced, opinionated and loud; Louisianian, talented, smart as a whip. She was pretty, even in her youth, and should have been more popular but her peers thought her as a dumb hick from the South and had a habit of fighting with people who were rude or mean.

Which meant Arthur’s bullies.

Not only was she three years younger than him, but she was also _very_ small and had a set of mean fists. It was amusing when the sixth grader had a fourth grader coming to his defense — she’d skipped a grade which went against what her own bullies had claimed; dumb, inbred, hick.

Arthur was strong, much stronger than he let on. But he never fought back — couldn’t risk hurting them even when he was mad or upset. He’d just take it, glare and bite the bullet.

Until Daisy moved to Amnesty Bay and took over the role of his protector. Much to his surprise and the amusement of his father. The first time she witnessed him being bullied, he just shrank into himself as the bullies teased him for being different during lunch.

She wasn’t sure what it was that they picked on him for — for his skin, introverted nature, or him just keeping himself away from everyone.

Either way, she didn’t like it, and she didn’t like bullies.

Her brows creased and she rushed in, immediately punching the biggest one across the jaw with a little battlecry— much to the astonishment of young Arthur Curry.

But her defending him gave his bullies more ammunition to use against him — being defended by someone who was not only younger than him but a _girl_.

Daisy mockingly called his little girlfriend, him being called a cradle robber — which didn’t make much sense.

Surprising enough, Arthur didn’t fight against the friendship all that much even with the added on bullying she unintentionally caused him as she immediately took on the role of his protector and best friend.

As the years burned on, little changed. Arthur became more sure of himself as his true heritage was revealed to him and he began to stand up for himself and Daisy but that didn’t stop her from defending him whenever she could. Little genius was a handful of southern insults, witty banter, and hard, little fists.

Of course, Arthur got an earful when she found out how strong he actually was when she caught him training with Vulko once on a secluded part of the beach. Some strength training or something — Arthur, seventeen at the time, had _punched_ a boulder in half.

 **“** _Holy shit — how’d you do_ that _?_ **”** She’d half-yelled, half-gasped in awe from across the sands, startling the hell out him and the Atlantean vizier. Her little fourteen-year-old brain couldn’t comprehend what she had just seen.

She had assumed he was just a metahuman like her, and revealed her own abilities to him and Vulko on the beach that day; enhanced strength, durability, stamina — but not on the same level as Arthur — speed, reflexes, and agility, an accelerated healing factor, white-blue fire manipulation, pyrokinetic flight, and the uncanny ability to heal other organic matter; plants, animals, and people with healing fire.

Which Daisy thought was strange… she was good at destroying things with her fire and fury, not _fix_ them. At her young age, she was still struggling against bursting into flame when she was upset. So, instead of combusting, she’d beat down bullies.

 **“** _How could you not tell me? We could have arm-wrestled to see who was strongest!_ **”**

Arthur won, no contest.

She pouted a lot.

He bought her a candy bar and a soda and she forgave him.

They grew up together, hung out nearly every day when he wasn’t busy with Vulko and she wasn't busy with her mama. His father taught them both about cars and motors; how to rebuild a carburetor, how to replace a u-joint, how to change a tire, etc. She was quick to see Thomas as a father figure.

Day’s own father was… out of the picture, so to speak. He was a good man in a bad line of work and so she only got to see him during holidays when he wasn’t working.

She’d never tried to cross the boundary of friendship with Arthur, despite her deep-rooted crush on him. She thought he was cool and charming; funny and likable — admired him for holding back his strength against the assholes at school. He had good taste in music, _lived in a lighthouse_ , good with animals — she just adored him from the start.

They’d surf together, jam to tunes in Thomas’ truck together, at one point they’d tried to start a band, stay up late in his room playing Sonic or Shinobi on his Genesis, get high under the pier, making each other mixtapes with Daisy singing along in perfect pitch, acting as the resident DJ —

_“This is WKPB DJ Yeehaw-Daisy bringing to ya the latest hits!”_

_“You have to say ‘y’all’ and ‘howdy’ — Day you_ have _to.” Arthur’s muffled voice could be heard in the background, struggling against a snicker as she huffed._

_“Howdy y’all, this is WKPB DJ Yeehaw-Daisy!”_

The age gap between them was minimal, but she was still in middle school while he was entering high school. Then he was a senior and she was a sophomore. Then he was graduating and leaving…

Arthur said he wanted to see the world and Daisy had no specific goal in mind besides graduating and staying alive. So, when he graduated, she’d hugged him, gave him some chunky, silver, skull ring that reminded her of him, and he was gone.

The fifteen-year-old was _crushed…_ oh well, such is life, no?

She worked hard in mastering her skills as a mechanic and guitarist, finding passion in music unlike she’d ever known before. Kept her grades _nearly_ perfect and became captain of the cheer squad — not many people have ever seen a grease-covered cheerleader kicking the asses of jerks.

At 16 in 2006, her father, Alexandros, disappeared.

Going totally off the radar when, even in his absence, he always managed to send postcards, letters, and short lovely messages over the modified ham radio. In an act of desperation, Althea, her mother, left her to search for him during the summer before Day’s senior year.

 **“** _I_ will _bring him home._ **”**

 **“** _Good — and bring me back a souvenir, too._ **”**

She never returned and Daisy never reported her missing. It would be dangerous to do so as both her parents hadn’t exactly been… heroic in their actions. Her parents were both metahuman and assassins, for crying out loud.

Her parents were trying to go good when they found out Althea was pregnant, and they were, mostly, successful until her father went missing and vowed to find him, rescue him, and bring him home.

Her father never spent much time at home, due to the fact that they had defected from their ‘workgroup’ and he was busy ensuring that they would never be able to track his family down and kill them as they did with _any_ defector, no matter how high ranking they were.

If Day were to report her missing, she’d be putting herself in harm’s way.

And, before she realized it, she was entering senior year and graduating with honors, having excelled in all AP courses — could have been valedictorian but she didn’t really feel up to the task of coming up with an inspiring speech, so she let her grades slip _ever so slightly_ to ‘lose’ gracefully to a respectable peer.

Only Thomas came to congratulate her, telling her he’d tried to get in touch with Arthur but he had no luck. It wasn’t like Arthur _never_ came to visit, it was just she always seemed to miss it when he did. Thomas was kind enough to fill her in on where he was and what he was doing, to an extent, anyway.

As much as Daisy wanted to stick around Amnesty Bay, she wanted to see the world too, and the town was too small for such a girl like her. With her abilities, she aspired to be some sort of hero slash rockstar — granted, she wasn’t really successful in the latter of those dreams.

She was too busy and wanted to stay out of the limelight, not wanting to earn the eye of her parents' old coworkers turned enemies. There was a difference between being famous and being famous _in a mask_.

She did her best to both lay low and do the right thing when needed, taking up a little moniker, calling herself the Blue Ghost.

The blue ghost was a sort of firefly that didn’t flash yellow-green but instead, would glow a white-blue.

She loved being a hero or trying to be one, at least. But with her parents' histories weighing her shoulders down, there was always someone, somewhere who knew who she was and blamed her for their actions.

She even had a suit made for her by a woman by the name of Amanda Waller — a white catsuit with blue piping, with a short, blue, split cape that fell just past her fingertips. Blue driving gloves, knee-high blue, lace-up boots. She wore a blue domino mask and a white motocross face mask with blue lenses. The emblem on her chest was a little blue glowing bug.

The entire outfit was made from Kevlar and Beta Cloth, coated with Teflon to reduce its tendency to crease or tear with use and to increase its durability. It was built to _last_ as Daisy was sure she wouldn’t catch Waller in another good mood to give her another suit.

Waller wasn’t exactly a hero, but she wasn’t a villain either.

Waller knew who she was, knew her parents too, knew what parents had done. But wouldn’t tell Day where they were or if they were even alive. Daisy didn’t ask either… not wanting to know the answer, wasn’t ready to hear it.

That was _years_ ago.

And now, here she was, back in Amnesty Bay, home again.

For the time being, anyway.

She was on a little trip to drop off some car parts to her home. Day was now a professional mechanic, a classic car restorer, and she _loved_ it. She stored rare parts she was sure she wasn’t going to accidentally stumble across again in her giant garage.

Her massive home of glass and whitewashed sandstone at the top of a cliff was as if time hadn’t touched it. Her mother left behind a hefty inheritance and several ‘rainy day’ funds hidden around the world, giving Daisy knowledge of them and how to access them when she left.

 **“** _Just in case. You know I will be back, hon’._ **”**

 **“** _I know, mom._ **”**

That was 2006, _eleven_ years ago. It felt like a lifetime.

She was careful about keeping her home clean and well kept, in case they ever did come back. Whenever she was in town, several times a month to drop off parts and take new orders, she was sure to check in on Thomas and spend some time with him.

They’d have a drink, chat, get food or something, and she’d be on her way again. Funny how she _never_ ran into Arthur. She was starting to wonder if she’d ever see him again like how she'd wondered about her parents.

The giant garage was immaculately organized, she dropped off the rare parts on the proper shelves, and made her way into the house to get a little bit dressed up before heading to the bar. Granted, she’d never get _too_ dressed up to go to a pub but she hated _not_ trying to look nice.

You just never know who you were going to run into and her mother instilled in her the importance on appearance that gave Daisy a bit of a narcissistic, vain streak she was trying to break. She knew she was hot, looked good, and she liked looking good and being hot. So, she worked to maintain an appealing appearance.

Now, just _who_ found her appealing varied due to her attitude, piercings, tattoos, and casual punk attire.

The cold hardly ever bothered her due to her inner fire, so she wore a pair of high-waisted, black shorts, and an old, distressed, black band-t with the sleeves sheared off and the sides were cut down, showing off the sides of her green, lacy bra. The Guns ‘n Roses graphic on the front of it was all but worn off. The hem of the shirt was knotted off to the side, showing off the slip of skin of her midriff, her large watercolor floral tattoo on her left hip peaked out, her rose gold belly button ring sparkling.

Her left arm was totally tattooed, from the shoulder all the way down to her wrist: a watercolor aquatic scene of a coral reef and various marine life — including a shark, jellyfish, and few other creatures. A large piece on her right thigh, her right wrist decorated with dusty roses — _many_ tattoos and even more piercings. Left nostril had a stud in it, a vertical labret going through her bottom lip, triple tongue piercing down the middle of the muscle, and those were the only _appropriate_ ones to mention.

Her hair remained it’s metallic white shade, falling to her tailbone in a thick mane of loose curls and waves. Her eyes were almond shaped and colored an impossible bottle green and seemed to glow at some points; thick, dark lashes framing them. High cheekbones, flat chin, and a full, dusty pink mouth with a pillowy bottom lip — accentuated by the piercing in the center of it.

Her skin held a sort of golden glow, tanned and smooth with no blemishes or tags — only a few freckles dusting across her delicate nose and shoulders.

She was short, petite, barely 5 feet tall, with a narrow waist, round hips, a generous bust, and full thighs. Despite her height or lack of it, she was never confused for a child due to her womanly figure and pretty face.

Daisy shoved her socked feet into a pair of pale blue Converse that had seen better days, grabbed her black bomber jacket covered in patches and black suede fringe purse, and left her home.

Tony’s bar had been there since she moved to Amnesty Bay when she was 9 and would probably be there until the end of time. She chuckled softly, standing outside of the pub with a fluttering stomach. The smell of beer, salt from the sea, and the sounds of the music, rowdy people inside, seagulls, and the crashing waves made her really feel like she was coming home.

The sun had long set, leaving the night sky full of twinkling stars and a full moon, lighting up the world in silver — the ocean was black under the cloak of darkness and Day felt… content.

She pushed the door open and entered, easily moving among the patrons — the bar was packed, not that she was all that surprised. It was a local favorite, the beer was good and the service was friendly — if you were a local, of course, and Daisy was.

The music was loud, the lights were dim, and the vibe was lively and fun.

Some people greeted her and chatted amiably for the barest of moments with _how’re you’s_ and _long time no see’s!_ as she made her way to the bar, immediately seeing Thomas.

She grinned and slapped his right arm and sat in the empty stool on his left side.

Thomas jerked, glaring to the right where he felt the hit, then cocked his head to left, a hard look on his face — until he saw who it was and lit up.

“Daisy!” He tugged her into a hug and she laughed, nearly falling off the stool, and hugged him back just as tightly.

“I missed you!”

“I missed you! Lemme buy ya a round,” Thomas flagged down the bartender.

Soon enough she had a cold mug of beer in hand and was rambling off to Thomas of her latest gig — rebuilding a black cherry ‘67 Pontiac GTO.

Thomas sucked in a breath through his teeth, muttering, “I’d love to get my hands on a _red_ classic — _convertible_.”

Daisy chortled softly into her second beer, “I’ll get you one for your 60th, old man.” She winked at him and wrinkled her nose cutely as she smiled.

“Don’t tease — that’s comin’ up,” he nudged her with a snicker.

She laughed softly, ordering a third beer, and muttered about how she ought to just open up a tab for the night. Not a whole lot went on in Amnesty Bay — it was beautiful, sleepy, and full of quiet life. Daisy loved it, missed it, and felt like it was her home… despite the lack of a certain person she knew truly made it home.

She wanted to ask about Arthur but didn’t see much point in it. Embarrassed that she still harbored romantic feelings for someone she hadn’t seen in… what… thirteen years? Her heart clenched a bit and she fought a frown, tilting her head down and looked into the bottom of her mug, her wavy, white metallic hair curtaining her off from the noisy, rambunctious world around her for a moment.

Ridiculous.

Stood up at the damn alter by a man she fell in love with for some other woman and she _still_ held such feelings for a childhood crush — couldn’t call him her childhood sweetheart since they weren’t ever sweethearts.

She raked her fingers through her metallic white mane, pushing it away from her face and focused back on Thomas. He was saying how he was going to clean the truck’s carburetor.

“But since there was a professional in town, maybe I’ll have her do it,” he winked at Daisy and she snickered.

“Considering you taught me most of what I know and _owe_ you my profession, I’ll do it for free,” she smiled at him and winked back.

Thomas hooted and clapped his hands, then drummed his fingers on the bartop like an excited kid.

Laughing and finishing off her fifth beer, she realized she had to pee.

“Hey, guard my jacket?”

“Sure thing, kid.”

Daisy left her jacket on the stool next to Thomas and went off to use the ladies’ room, purse dangling from her shoulder and rested against her hip.

After relieving herself and washing her hands, she made sure she still looked nice despite her being somewhat buzzed off of five beers — cat eyeliner, deep red lipstick that made her silver lip piercing, white teeth, and green eyes absolutely pop in contrast.

Day fingered the long black suede rope choker that wrapped around her neck several times that had rose gold tips that rested at the top of her cleavage. Her nails were well manicured, a bit long despite her profession (a bonus at being super-durable, nails were hard to break), and painted black. Her fingers were decorated with rings she’d won out of gumball machines.

She checked her phone with a hum. 1 AM already? Since she worked for herself and had no fixed schedule, she could come and go as she pleased. She thought about sticking around the Bay for a few days. She really missed Thomas and had no idea just how much until she was talking with him.

Maybe she could figure out just what _kind_ of classic red convertible he wanted. Lord knows she had enough funds to finance a private project like that. She really did owe that man her profession even though initially she wanted to learn how to fix cars to impress Arthur, she actually enjoyed and found a true love for cars there.

She pulled the top few layers of her hair back in a half ponytail at the back of her head, leaving the rest down to frame her face with a big smile, showing off her bright dimples — yeah, she was gonna stay in the Bay for a bit.

Daisy left the bathroom with a bit of pep in her step, her purse thumping against her pert ass with every bounce, as she made her way back to her spot at the bar.

A man stood next to Thomas, in front of her stool, and she was unable to get to it, her beer, or her jacket.

She stood still and ran her tongue across her teeth as she took in his appearance, from the back anyway as he chatted amiably with Thomas. Clearly, the two knew one another, and with the roar of the patrons and swell of the music, she was unable to hear what they were saying to one another.

The man was tall — _really_ tall. 6’4’’? 6’5’’? She wasn’t sure exactly but he _easily_ dwarfed her 5’ stature. She doubted the top of her head even reached his collarbone. His shoulders were so broad and he was clearly _extremely_ muscular, his biceps bigger than her skull and his thighs looked like they could crush her.

His wavy hair fell past his shoulders in a soft brown color that faded into a blonde at the ends. His arms were exposed, wearing a black, tank top. A black leather belt held his dark jeans in place, the pant legs haphazardly tucked into boots.

How big were his feet? Looks like size 14 to her size 6.

She blinked — this man was a god damn giant!

The wallet chain glistened in the funky lighting of the bar, leading her eyes to trail to his ass. And wow — _nice._ He had some sort of leather bracers on his wrists — another thing, something she immediately saw, was his extensive tattoos and many rings on his long, dexterous looking fingers, as his thumbs were hooked in the belt loops at his hips.

Hunky.

She smirked a bit, biting her bottom lip, maybe she’d get lucky tonight…

“Excuse me, sugar, I need to get to my jacket,” Daisy spoke up finally, taking a step towards him, and the man immediately whirled around.

She froze, absolutely rooted to the spot.

“ _Arthur?_ ”

“Holy shit — Daisy?”

* * *

 


	2. "Play it cool."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Language. Dirty talk. Some adult content. Grown-ups being bad and naughty.

* * *

 

Day’d recognize those eyes anywhere, despite the color they would be at any given time. From Van Gogh green to hazel to soft brown to lagoon blue — it was Arthur.

Her eyes widened and her heart leaped into her throat and strangled her with its overwhelmingly quick beats. She sucked in a sharp breath and gestured to him wildly as he did the same to her. 

“Oh my god…!” Arthur still gawked, alight with joy, and stepped forward and engulfed her in a tight hug, bending over her. One hand burying in her hair at the back of her head, and his other arm wrapped around her shoulders, crushing her into him.

She looped her wiry arms around his middle, her hands flat against his back, fingers digging into the muscles there, standing up on her tiptoes, burying her face in his neck; his beard tickled her cheek. 

Jesus, he smelled so good—…   

They stood like that for a while and, frankly, Daisy would have remained there happily for all time but he pulled back, placing his (massive) hands on her shoulders and took her appearance in. 

“Damn, you grew up,” he teased, winking at her, and she managed to fight the blush that threatened to blossom in her cheeks from her chest.

Daisy really did. She was gorgeous and an excellent flirt and a professional heartbreaker. She was out of most’s league but that didn’t stop plenty from trying to win her hand or just a night with her. She was considered cool, hot, a babe, a goddess — but Arthur was making her feel like a schoolgirl again, all nervous and giggly.

Play it cool, she begged herself.

She returned the wink with a crooked smirk and gestured to him in a languid slow wave of the hand, allowing the tips of her claws to graze down his torso, “So did you. You look good, Arthur.” She flirted casually and noted the slight red tinge in his ears and cheeks with a smug look. 

Arthur caught that look. He cocked his brows up high and his head to the side, “Oh, that’s how it is.”

“I dunno what you’re talkin’ about,” she batted her lashes innocently and he laughed. 

“God, I missed you. How long has it been?” He laughed and released her, grabbing her jacket from her stool, and gestured to a vacant booth in the corner. 

Thomas waved them off, all but shooing them away. He did  _ not  _ need to see them shamelessly flirting with one another all night, even though a part of him assumed they’d end up together at some point.

Day turned and moved towards the booth, Arthur slowly following her. She could feel his eyes on her waist then her hips — Jesus, she could  _ feel  _ him staring, like a hot touch ghosting all over her. 

“Twelve, thirteen years?” Daisy hummed, lifting her brow at him as she slid into the booth. Arthur slowly slid into the other side, setting her and his jackets beside him in the corner. 

“Damn,” he blinked and shook his head. 

“Yeah,” Day sighed and tilted her head, admiring him for a moment in the shared silence. 

He looked  _ so _ good and her poor heart couldn’t handle it — neither could her body, apparently, as tingles tickled through her. Her knees were in between his, she noted, her feet between his boots. She noticed this when he would shift a bit and bump into her, earning a  _ sorry _ followed with a  _ it’s fine _ .

She wanted to talk to him, ask him where he had been, what he was doing, what had he been doing, what he had seen, but she didn’t know where to start or how. She worried her bottom lip, the plump, red pillow between her perfect teeth had Arthur  _ staring _ at her mouth.

He leaned forward, easily taking up half of the table in the motion, “How’ve you been, Sparky?”

She laughed, a true, genuine laugh, and he was quick to join in. She shook her head at the childhood nickname. Perhaps  _ that  _ should have been her hero callsign.

**“** _ Sparky, once again, saves New Orleans! _ **”**

“Oh, Nemo…” she rolled her eyes and patted the back of his hand, her hand looking so small compared to his, earning a crooked smirk from him. 

“Yeah, I noticed.” He reached out with his other hand, leaving the other under hers, and brushed a finger across her full sleeve tattoo, underwater life, brightly painted in lively watercolors. The pad of his index finger ghosted up her arm to trace over the clownfish just below her outer collarbone — like he had escaped from the aquatic scene on her arm and was making his way to her heart. 

The touch had an immediate reaction, goosebumps covering her skin in a matter of seconds. Daisy bit her lip and her pupils blew up, her cheekbones turning red. Arthur smirked and dropped his hand back to the tabletop, looking rather satisfied at her response.

She huffed a bit, sort of frustrated that he had such an effect on her, even after all this time. 

“Ass,” she bumped her foot against his with a grunt and his smirk only grew, his eyes lighting up in a soft hazel color.

A waiter stepped over to them and set two mugs of beer before them and —

“Shots? Really?” Daisy gasped in amused astonishment, cocking her head to the side, looking at the six shots of tequila, six slices of limes, and a salt shaker.

“I didn’t—” Arthur’s brows furrowed and the two looked to the bar to see Thomas grinning.

“My money’s on Daisy!” He shouted and Arthur rolled his eyes. 

“My money’s on me, too,” Day beamed at Arthur and sent a thumbs up to Thomas who turned back around to face the bar.

“Oh, is it?” Arthur puffed out his chest, an air of playful competitiveness settled over them — just like old times. 

“Oh, it is,” she mocked him and mirrored his position, puffing out her chest and his eyes settled on her breasts with a lifted brow and head leaned to the side. 

“Stop staring, yours are bigger!” She gestured to his chest and he laughed, hard.

———

“I can’t believe you suck at this,” Daisy smirked as Arthur tried lining up the pool cue to get a clean shot.

“Shut up, you’re distracting me,” Arthur grunted playfully, buzzed and warm. 

Daisy was definitely buzzed but not drunk. Benefits of a regenerative factor, hard to get drunk. But that made getting drunk  _ expensive  _ as it took quite a  _ lot  _ of alcohol to achieve the effect.

Arthur was bent over, trying to get the perfect angle. She discreetly ogled him again, long, strong legs, lean waist — that ass! Damn — her heart still hadn’t slowed its racing pace.

“Oh am I?” She batted her lashes innocently, her voice sweet and soothing, like melted honey. She was at the pool table right next to him, perched on the edge of it, the tips of her toes barely grazing the floor.

Arthur looked at her from the corner of his eyes and she locked her gaze with him, then looked down at her legs, he followed her lead — her thighs slowly spread, rolling her hips forward, and he jerked his hand — causing a pool ball to  _ leap  _ over another, the one he was trying to knock in the hole, and bounce right off the table.

He swore under his breath in another language and straightened up, shaking his head, as Daisy laughed, tilting her head back as she did, and clapped her hand to her chest.

“You’re such a brat.”

“Yes, sir,” she winked at him and hopped off the table. She moved to get into position, purposefully brushing her front against him as she passed him and they locked eyes again, and still was taken aback by just how big her friend had grown — he was  _ so _ big!

She winked at him again and he shook his head with a smirk, his warm hazel eyes twinkling.

Daisy bent at her waist, a bit more than needed, shoving her rear out and arched her back to give him a nice little show. She noted him tilting his head to the side as he looked at her ass and she fought the grin that threatened to spread across her face.

He was  _ so _ going to lose.

“Gosh, Arthur, you’re just  _ so  _ distracting,” she mocked him with a pouty little huff and whine, rocking her hips back and forth.

Earning a scowl and grumble from the giant man.

Perfectly lined up, she knew she’d made the shot, and just as she was about to annihilate her childhood crush, he leaned over her, palms pressed to the green top of the pool table, arms at either side of her, caging her in. She could feel the heat rolling off of him, his face close to hers, lips brushing her ear, beard tickling her, and hot breath danced across her cheek. 

And then... 

...Arthur fucking  _ nipped _ her earlobe, tongue laving over it so briefly, and his teeth clicked against the many piercings there, causing her to gasp sharply and completely miss her shot, slamming the tip of the cue into the lip of the table at the other side.

The pool cue had  _ cracked  _ in the center with how hard she had jerked.

Arthur roared with laughter and stood, clapping and hooting with pride.

“Ass!” She stood and smacked his arm, “You  _ touched _ ! You  _ cheated _ !”

“Wasn’t cheatin’, sweetheart. We never set up any rules to break!” He smirked leaning down to bring his face to hers and their heavy breaths mingled between them.

Daisy couldn’t stop the affronted look from melting into a bright, warm smile that spread across her red lips. “I missed you, Nemo,” she breathed out in a murmur only he could hear. 

“I missed you, Sparky,” he said softly, his hazel eyes looking more like honey. 

Something sweet and nostalgic settled over them, but the tension remained. She pointed to the table, “We still have some balls left.”

Arthur’s smile turned into a sly smirk, “Uh-huh…” he winked at her and moved around the table, trying to figure out which ball to try to pocket but his eyes were mostly glued to either her eyes or her body.

Daisy was trying to figure out how to distract him  _ this _ time — there were two stripes and three solids left, not to mention her damn cue was cracked. She glanced to the slightly crooked stick, and winced, discreetly dropping it and letting it roll beneath the table.

Arthur, at the other side of the table, laughed, his shoulders bouncing, and he shook his head at her. Sending her a shaming look, tsking, and wagged his finger. She brought her finger to her lips, shushed, and winked.

Daisy bit her bottom lip, her labret clicking against her teeth, as she figured out just  _ what _ to do. She discreetly flowed around the table, dragging her claws against the surface, swaying her hips, and kept her eyes on him. His eyes were on her —

“Oh, no,” he groaned, watching her stalk towards him with a sashay. “What’ve you got planned in that twangy lil head of yours?” He raised a brow, but he was grinning. He was enjoying this little game of theirs just as much, if not, more than she was. 

And she fucking  _ loved  _ that.

“Go on, line yourself up, Nemo,” she smirked crookedly and crossed her arms, a smug look of victory on her face. 

He felt… nervous. He hadn’t felt nervous around a woman in  _ years _ but then again, Daisy just wasn’t  _ any  _ woman. He grew up with her, sparred with her on the beach, hell — Vulko taught her some damn moves — she wasn’t  _ just _ anyone. 

Arthur tapped his fingers on the cue in his hands and stood still, trying to prepare himself. Shaking his head and sucked a long breath in through his nose, “Shit, I’m gonna lose, ain’t I?” His eyes flashed to her and she nodded slowly, looking so  _ damn smug _ .

“Oh yeah, baby boy,” she purred, resting her hands on her hips, grinning wildly. 

Arthur bit his bottom lip and Day watched his mouth, tilting her head to the side and hummed. “I wonder what I’ll demand when I win…?” 

“Gosh — I— I just don’t know,” he mocked, stuttering out the sentence on purpose as he moved to stand over her and lean into her, his body just inches from hers. She could feel his breath on her cheek and she could feel the heat roll off of him again.

Daisy smirked up at him, “Ass…” She murmured and stared at his lips again. He was so close, if she stood up on her tiptoes, she could kiss him. She quickly looked to the pool table, “Stop draggin’ ass, Curry.”

Arthur  _ growled  _ and goosebumps popped up across her golden tan skin again, her eyes widening at the sound, and she  _ blushed.  _ She was quick to compose herself and cool her blush, hoping he didn’t notice.

“Saw that.” 

Now  _ he _ sounded so damn smug. She could  _ hear _ the smirk in his tone.

“You saw nothin’, Nemo,” she refused to look at him, narrowing her pretty green eyes at the pool table.

“ _ You blushed _ ,” he teased.

“Silence and shoot, fishstick,” Day huffed, crossing her arms, and pouted cutely. 

He drew even closer into her, his beard rasping across her cheekbone as he whispered, “Are you so sure you’re gonna win, Sparky?” 

Daisy bit down on her bottom lip and looked up at him through her lashes, letting her lip  _ pop! _ from between her teeth, “What do you want if you win?” She asked oh so innocently, with a soft breathless tone, struggling against the smirk that threatened the corners of her lips as she reached up to rest her palm on his chest, fingers splaying across his pec in a gentle circular stroke, noting his racing, strong heart in his chest. 

Then let her nails dig into the muscle for a moment, leaving little crescent marks in his skin through his tank top, dragging her nails lightly down his front over the muscles and contours of his torso until she  _ almost  _ reached his belt buckle, her nails brushing just passed his naval, then let her hand drop to her side.

They never decided on the stakes — just decided they were gonna play pool after downing all the shots. Daisy beat him of course, smirking as he pounded down the shots slowly, and teased him relentlessly for it.

The flirting was immediate, a wink here, a casual brush-by there, and soon they were all out desperately trying to distract each other with more outlandish attempts to get the other to miss the shot or just wind up looking silly. 

At the look and touch, Arthur froze, his eyes widening a fraction and his pupils blew up. He sucked in a breath sharply and moved back a step, exhaling quickly. He released a breathless, stunned laugh, “ _ God— _ ” 

The smug look returned to Daisy’s features, “Yes, Arthur, you’re gonna lose.”

Arthur smirked, finally regaining his composure, and crossed his arms, keeping a bit of a distance, “I think I’ll enjoy that.”

“Oh, you will,” Daisy confirmed with a wink and a nod. 

If she was reading things right, and let’s be honest, they weren’t exactly hiding what they wanted to do with one another tonight, they were headed in a direction she never thought she’d take with Arthur but she would be damned if she’d let an opportunity like this slip by. 

Nothing may come from it or something might. But she liked him, always liked him, and always will like him — no doubt about that.

Whatever happens, happens. 

Whatever may be, may be.

Arthur gave a sexy little grin that made her heart skip a beat, “Good.” 

He turned towards the table and bent, wiggling his hips a bit to mock her, and winked at her; she laughed, shaking her head in response. 

“Ass!” She wrinkled her nose cutely as she beamed at him in amusement.

He began lining up the shot, solids, and wondered what she was going to say or do to distract him. He was nervous, excited — he felt all giggly and nervous; chest full of light air and stomach full of butterflies. 

Arthur couldn’t believe how much his childhood friend had grown and just what she’d grown into. She was —… beautiful was an understatement, no word felt right describing her. With her tattoos, piercings, her profession and attitude, she was certainly someone that would have caught his attention in any situation. And was only made better, more attractive, more desirable, with the fact that he  _ knew _ her, truly knew her.

She was the one he went to when Vulko revealed the truth to him about his mother. She was the one that consoled him and steadied him. She was his best friend. He blinked, clearing his head, and returned to the moment at present.

He drew the cue back and watched from the corner of his eye as she placed a hand between his shoulder blades and brought her full, red lips to his ear. He halted his movements, he knew he was going to lose — so why even try to take the shot?

Arthur placed his right hand on the table top, bracing his weight, and absentmindedly leaned into her touch, eager to see, feel, or hear just what she was going to do. 

Daisy was nervous, her stomach full of butterflies and her back in knots, but she was already committed and if this didn’t get his  _ full _ attention,  _ nothing  _ would. She noticed him lean towards her as she leaned over him, her breast pressing against his shoulder, her lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“My clit’s pierced — wanna see?”

There was a loud crack, startling the whole bar into a frenzy, some screamed, others jumped preparing to fight, the silence was painful.

The pool table  _ broke _ and laid in two pieces on the floor, Arthur had stumbled a bit forward as the table gave way under his hand and stood stiffly, between them, trying to regulate his breathing. 

Daisy had jumped back quite a few feet in surprise, back pressed against the wall.

She forgot just how strong he was.

Tony, the bartender and owner of the bar, shouted in confusion, “What the _hell_ happened!?”

“Put it on my tab, Tony,” Daisy shouted to Tony breathlessly as patrons moved to the broken pool table, trying to see how or why a sturdy thing like that could break randomly. 

She finally looked at Arthur, actually nervous about what she’d see. Was he mad? Embarrassed? Disgusted?

Nope!

He looked like a _predator_ , like he wanted to _eat_ her. The wolfish smirk on his lips and his eyes looked — black? — and had a  _ suggestive _ quality. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling deeply, his head cocked a bit and he stalked towards her with ground-eating strides that made her feel like  _ prey _ .

“We’re leaving,” his tongue darted out, the tip laving across his bottom lip; something she watched closely, and came to a stop about three feet away from her.

“Do you agree you’ve lost?” She hummed softly, lifting a brow up at him as she smiled crookedly and fluttered her lashes. 

She was driving him absolutely nuts.

He leaned in a bit, “Only if I get to see your pretty little pu—”

“Arthur!” Daisy  _ blushed,  _ jerking her chin to a few patrons a little too close and knew they’d hear whatever he was about to say — not that she didn’t need to guess just what he was going to say and it had her all tingly and excited; even though that was how she spent most of this night with him.

He smirked, “Uh-huh.” He darted towards her suddenly and wrapped an arm around her thighs, startling a gasp out of her as he tossed her over his shoulder in a swift, single move. 

“Arthur—!”

“Quiet, princess,” he teased, slapping her ass once as he spun on his heel, earning a little  _ squeak! _ from her this time. He moved to their booth, and grabbed their jackets and her purse, and walked towards the exit — the patrons cheered and laughed as Arthur left with his woman over his shoulder like a damn prize.

She pressed her hands against his back for leverage, looking at the bar, and fought the blush as they cheered — noting Thomas at the bar, laughing his damn ass off — shit, what if he heard and saw everything they were doing? They weren’t exactly being discreet — and the man was like a father to her — 

“What about your tab?” Tony shouted, throwing his hands in the air in annoyance.

“I’ll stop by tomorrow — cover it then!” Day shouted back just as the door shut.

“We’ll take your car,” Arthur grunted out, not from the stress of carrying her, but trying to keep calm and not just fuck her on the pavement of the parking lot. 

“Sure,” Day laughed softly, her abdomen tightening with the action, and he felt it on his shoulder.

“Which one?” He asked, spinning around one in his spot as they stood in the lot, earning another laugh from her.

“You gonna put me down?” She teased, drawing shapes into his back with her long, clawish, black nails. 

She felt him shudder and felt immensely smug at the reaction.

“Not if I can help it, Sparky.”

Rolling her eyes, she managed to reach and snag her purse, swinging from his other hand and fished out the keys. She pressed the little horn button on the fob and Arthur followed the sound.

Right toward the matte black ‘69 Camaro SS with red leather interior. He cooed in appreciation as he got close, “Holy shit, baby girl. This yours?”

“Mhm — I’m a  _ classic restorer _ , you think I’d drive just some old beater?” She smacked his ass in a spur of the moment and he grunted again. 

“Snob,” he chuckled and  _ finally  _ set her down, but didn’t release her, his long arms wrapped around her shoulders, his fingers trailing up and down her back. 

“Wanna drive?” Day smirked, twirling the keys around her index finger and Arthur thought she had him wrapped around her pinky.

* * *

 


End file.
